


Here, Fishy Fishy

by heauregard



Series: Rape/Noncon Porn [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Bottom Castiel, Dubious Consent, Gangbang, M/M, Mermaids, Multi, Pirate Dean, Pirates, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rape, Smut, Top Dean, mermaid Castiel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-03
Updated: 2017-09-03
Packaged: 2018-12-23 11:42:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11989092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heauregard/pseuds/heauregard
Summary: Poor Castiel, so naive to the reality of land life, or pirate life, to be more specific.He's got to learn someday.





	Here, Fishy Fishy

**Author's Note:**

> Very graphic gang rape! Please do not continue reading if it isn't your cup of tea! It's never my intention to trigger anyone so please, listen to your limits if you have any! Love you all. ❤

Soft pants for air caused the temperature in the wooden crate to rise. The sides of the crate that surrounded the boy shook and creaked as the wind swirled around it. The wind was like a cold draft, cooling the deck of the ship he had been hauled onto. It was small and hot and confined; Castiel hated it.

He was used to the wide open seas, the salt water filled with the smallest minnows to the largest sharks. He was used to swimming through the schools of fish that parted for him and reconnected once he passed. He was used to running his fingertips across the backs of sharks as they swam by, both hammerheads and great whites alike - because great whites aren't as mean as the stigma says they are, at least not to him. He was used to swimming to the deepest depths of the ocean and finding the most oddly shaped and lightly colored shells, ones that mankind could never even dream of discovering.

He was used to being free.

There was a commotion outside of the box he was currently trapped in. Men's voices laughed and whooped and glasses clinked together, the sound of liquid spilling onto the floor beside the box. It smelled sour and acidic where it seeped into the corner of the wooden crate. Castiel looked down at the corner, catching sight of the little bottom fingers. Being in this crate, away from the water and close to dehydration, had dried his genetic structure. The blue-grey scales that once made up the lower half of his body were gone, the impression of them left into his skin and faded into the sun-kissed color of his skin.

He ran his fingertips down the length of his leg, feeling the impressions in his skin and sniffling. Next, he felt the area behind his ears, where slits that allowed him to breathe beneath water had closed, just gentle ridges in their place. With no use above water, he didn't need his aquatic features, but he already missed them. His throat felt dry, his eyes burned each time he blinked, and his lips were dry and cracking.

The top of the crate opened and sunshine peeked through the first available space, assaulting Castiel's eyes. He hugged his arms around his legs,whimpering and attempting to squint through the sudden light. The crate had been dark, just the smallest rays of light shining through cracks in the oak. A figure moved closer to block the sun and Castiel was finally given a break from squinting.

A strong, rough hand enclosed around his arm and yanked him upwards, another limb wrapping around his torso and hauling him up and out of the small crate. The same man held him there, Castiel's back pressed to his chest and his arms holding the boy's thin arms to his sides. The cold air brushed past him and his skin prickled all over, his nude body trembling at the sudden temperature change. A group of angry looking, smelly, dirty men stood in a group and observed the scene. The one holding him moved his hands down and all over Castiel's body, and it made the blue eyed boy whimper.

He struggled against the unwanted touching, bucking his body in a way that only made the fabric of the man's pants rub against his bare behind, earning a groan from the stranger. He didn't like this, he could pick up on the sense of danger and the smell of arousal and he didn't like it. All of the men were watching, and that's all they were doing. Some of them were cheering and some were laughing, drinking the orange-brown foaming liquid in their cups, but all of them were watching.

He was suddenly turned and the man pushed him over to the crate he was once trapped in, bending his slim body over the top of it. The crate was taller than his hips, so his feet dangled, toes just barely lifted off of the ground. He tried to push himself up from the position, but two men rushed over and pinned his wrists down against the wood, another one tilting his head back by a fistful of hair and forcing the glass of liquid to his dry lips. One of the men holding his wrists down used a free hand to force his jaw open. The liquid burned his throat as it went down, though half of it mainly just spilled down his chin and neck.

He coughed, and the men let go of his hair and his face, laughing as he struggled to breathe. Tears stung at his eyes and he wheezed, body trembling with each cough. In the time it took to force the alcohol down his throat - and on his face - the man behind him had slathered the boy's asscheeks in a oil they had picked up just a month or so ago from a village market. He had slathered his cock in it as well and wiped his hands on his shirt before gripping the boy's hips. There was a blunt pressure against the little opening and Castiel whimpered, turning his body as much as he could to see over his shoulder.

His bright blue eyes connected with emerald green ones and the man smirked, his thick fingers digging into the meat of Castiel's hips. The cheering of the crewmates drowned out Castiel's screams as the ring of slick muscle was penetrated by a thick object, an object that had with hairs at the base of it, brushing against Castiel's ass when the man bottomed out. It hurt, and Castiel's body trembled from the sudden burn. The poor little hole was stretched around whatever was violating him and Castiel could barely breathe.

His face was covered in beer and tears and as red as the blood staining the floor a few feet away. The men continued holding his arms down and the green eyed stranger behind him was massaging his hips, hips pulling back before slamming back inside. Castiel's body surged from the force and he screamed, voice straining. His throat was already dry, causing the sound to break off into a sob. He felt like he was being torn in half from the inside out, the burnt felt worse than the time he pulled himself up onto the rock above the surface of the water, the one that had been heated by the sun.

Why was this happening? Why would the men do this to him? What had he done wrong? What had he personally done to them to anger them?

The pain never ceased, the man's hips slamming against his own without mercy. The green eyed man was groaning, sounds of pleasure leaving his lips as he used the boy's ass. Castiel looked down at the crate, tears blurring his vision and soaking into the wood from where they rolled down the bridge of his nose to the top, then dripped steadily. The crate moved with the force of each thrust, rocking and creaking. The only sounds Castiel could hear over his own sobbing was the cheering.

“Give it to ‘im good Cap!”

“Cryin’ like a bitch! Watch n’ see, he'll be bleeding for days!”

“I call next!”

All of a sudden, there was a hand in his hair and he was yanked up from the wood, his arms freed finally. The man wrapped his arms around Castiel's thin body, trapping his arms at his sides and holding him up straight. The ground was warm on the soles of his feet, and the man's breath was hot on his neck. Beads of sweat rolled down both of their bodies, the man's cock drilling into him at a new angle that had him squeaking breathlessly. It still hurt, but now there was a shock of magic running up his spine each time he was fucked into.

“Fucking take it, fish bitch,” he heard in his ear, a voice low and menacing and deep. “Gonna fill you up, then pass you on to the next cock. They're all gonna have their turns, and once you're nice and broken in, covered in cum and sweat and beer, crying and bleeding, we're gonna chain you up all night.”

Castiel sobbed brokenly, his lower half aching from the energy that standing was taking out of him. He shook his head, fists clenching as he was drilled into over and over and over.

“That's all you are up here, a stress reliever, a warm hole to piss and cum in. There won't be a fucking minute you won't be leaking gallons of jizz, ass in the air, gaping and legs spread wide. You'll take it, every single cock. If you don't, well then you'll never get home again, it'll haunt you to be so close to the ocean and never be in it again.”

The men yelled in agreement, glasses clattering and liquid hitting the wooden floor. Castiel's thighs jiggled with the force of the fucking, head tilted back tiredly. He couldn't even physically hold it up anymore, even his legs were wobbling. The only reason he was still standing was because the man was holding him up. The sound of skin smacking on skin filled his ears, along with the man's groans and growls right beside his head. After what seemed like hours of the same pain over and over, the hint of tingling pleasure still torturing him, a warm liquid spread throughout his insides, painting his inner walls white.

“You remember this name: Captain Dean Winchester,” the man whispered darkly, finally letting go of the thin boy and pulling his spent cock free.

Castiel fell to the floor as soon as he was freed, knees hitting the ground with a loud thump. A throbbing pain emanated in his kneecaps and he rolled into his side, sobbing and curling up into a ball. His entire lower half felt as if it wasn't even there, it was numb and the entrance that leaked cum was burning, instinctively clenching around nothing. The man - Dean - stood over the lithe boy, pulling his pants up over his hips.

“Now be a good fishy for my crewmates, they've been so patient,” he said, stepping back and allowing the first taker.

The first one rushed forward and rolled Castiel onto his back, using the blood and cum mixture as lube so he wouldn't have to waste any time. He slid into the boy easily, gripping the thick thighs spread wide for him and taking advantage of the fatigue plaguing Castiel. He rolled his hips into him slowly at first, but in a matter of seconds, he was plowing him with no mercy. Castiel screamed and sobbed just like the previous time, shoving at the man's chest with what little energy he had. The second man's come filled his hole and on that final thrust that released the spunk, he hit the spot within Castiel that sent the shock up his spine.

The third man kept Castiel on his back, but pushed his legs up so high that the boy's ankles rested on a broad pair of shoulders as he was violated with just as much mercy as the first two. The blue eyed boy still screamed and cried, but gasps wormed their way in each time that one spot inside of him was drilled into.

The eighth man fucked Castiel on his stomach, still on the floor. He enlisted the help of one of the other crew members, one that sat on the ground in front of Castiel's face and held his head down on his crotch, his cock stuffed down Castiel's throat to stop the screaming. Both ends were filled with white, his lips coated in the warm liquid.

The eleventh man and the twelfth man went at the same time, sandwiching Castiel between their bodies and shoving both cocks inside of him at the same time. The one with the long brown and grey beard faced him while the one with the bushy black eyebrows held him from behind. This hurt the most, but somehow still managed to bring his little hairless cock to life.

The fifteenth man made Castiel ride him, and by then, the tears had dried into stains on his cheeks and he was rocking his hips in little, quick movements, purposely fucking that spot that made him whimper and gasp.

By the time the last man had fucked his throat, Castiel was trembling, filled to the brim with cum at both ends. He looked at all the drunk, satisfied men and, oddly, felt a sense of pride within him. Sixteen men, all happy and sedated and taken care of. Castiel, taking himself to limits he never thought possible. Most of all, even Castiel had been able to feel good. However, his little cock was still hard and leaking, because the one man that he wanted to take care of that had been watching the entire scene.

Dean beckoned the boy over and he obeyed, crawling on the ground because he physically couldn't stand up. He sat on his knees, trembling violently and covered in cum and bruises. Dean's pants were tight around the front and Castiel clenched around nothing at the sight. Dean ordered that if he wanted to be happy like the rest of them, Castiel had to put his mouth on the treat, thank Dean for teaching him how to take a cock, and rub against his leg.

So Castiel did.

Castiel took the captain's cock down his throat with only minimal gagging and listened to the crewmates curse obscenities at him and call him names, all the while cheering. He hoped it meant he was doing good. Dean held out his leg, covered in the rough fabric of the pant leg, and Castiel wrapped his arms around it, hugging it tight. Doing as Dean ordered, he moved his hips against it slowly, cock rubbing against the fabric. Anything to be happy like the others. He moved and rubbed and humped until he was coming, maoning around the cock stuffed in his mouth. Dean grabbed his hair and held his head down, cum flooded his mouth and he swallowed as much as he could.

“Good fishy,” Dean praised and shoved him away, white dripping down the corners of his mouth.

  
Castiel didn't want to go home anymore.

**Author's Note:**

> How turned on are you?


End file.
